The Taming of the Yandere
Chapter 12: What I Can’t Do Alone
When Jiang Muqing’s cleaver left her hand, I thought that I was definitely going to die.
I used to fantasize about my deaths. The most optimistic was old age, the most realistic was illness, the most reasonable was an accident, the worst was getting murdered….
I never even imagined that I would be cut to shreds by a sweet, young girl.
The cleaver soared through the air with a flash, and stuck on the wall, three inches beside my head. Hey, maybe this won’t end so bad after all.
Her accuracy was terrible. Even though she looked terrifying pulling the knives out of the blocks, she didn’t have nearly enough power to actually kill me.
I nimbly dodged the vegetable knife, peeler, scissors, and bone cleaver….
Jiang Muqing’s accuracy worsened with every throw.
She simply dropped one of the last knives, too weak to throw any more.
The final melon knife was wielded in the girls’ hands.
Is she going to close in?
She threw the wooden block on the floor.
Lifting the knife, she charged towards me, aiming at my chest. The black cat copied its master, pouncing towards me with hackles raised.
I was more prepared than ever.
I dodged, and the girl crashed into the wall. Then, I grabbed her knife, and clenched the back of her neck.
The arrogant cat was sent flying by a lax kick.
Next, was the girl’s short-lived struggle. She squirmed for a couple seconds, and collapsed in my arms.
The melon knife fell from her hands.
I wasn’t expecting her crash, and fell on the floor beside her.
The summer air was stifling hot. Jiang Muqing and I were both wearing thin, light clothes. After the fight, I noticed the calm, still girl’s pale skin, reflecting to my eyes.
The collar of her loose dress was opened a bit. From my position, the young girl’s maidenhood could be completely revealed.
Because I was curious, I glanced over.
Fuck, am I excited?
Damn, these shitty hormones.
I quickly buttoned up her collar, and realized she was unconscious.
Then I felt her forehead and face.
“She’s burning up!”
It was clearly a fever.
Her breath was heavy and labored, but steadily consistent. She needed urgent care.
This situation needs medical attention. I grabbed my phone, and prepared to dial emergency 120. *
*China’s emergency system is sort of retarded. Every department has different numbers. 120 is medical, 110 is local police, 119 is fire, and 122 is traffic accidents. It’s hard to remember them all.
But looking around, I realized that calling the authorities may not be the brightest idea.
First, the room wafted a stench of dead bodies, even though the culprit was moldy snacks.
Second, the living room floor and wall were scattered with all sorts of knives. Signs of struggle could be seen everywhere around the house.
Third, the girl was sprawled on the floor with her dress was torn. Her neck and wrist were sprinkled with red marks where I grabbed her.
Hiding corpses, home invasion, murder, and rape?
Although my student uniform will divert some suspicion, but finding outside help could be really tricky in this situation.
I don’t want to be treated like a crime suspect, and have policemen scaring me in front of my face.
What can I do?
I searched the house, and didn’t find any first aid supplies.
I took a random cloth, wet it with cold water, and placed it on the girl’s forehead. Then, I realized that the rag was used to clean the kitchen table.
Besides putting back all the knives in the kitchen, I didn’t do anything useful in particular.
I could only lie her down properly, and hope that the icy marble floor would bring down her body temperature.
What should I do?
“I’m so uncomfortable….”
The girl fidgeted, and looked very painful.
I can’t do anything useful. I can’t turn this thing around.
Just like that time.
When I was young, I wanted to ride a go-kart in a public park. The kart was powered by gasoline, and was very powerful.
It was completely different from bumper cars and electric bikes. *
*While electric bikes may sound extravagant, they’re extremely common in China. The great majority of middle-class families own one. They don’t go over 50-60 mph, can charge by an outlet, and are really cheap. One only costs about 150-200 USD.
The go-karts were driven on a long, oval racetrack. An adult could drive it very easily.
But I was only seven years old then.
Even so, I felt that driving the kart was really cool, and dragged my mom to ride with me.
Others drove smooth and straight. I crashed into the rubber wall, again and again.
My knee started bleeding, and my mother’s stockings tore a hole.
I could remember her furious look to this day.
So I let go of my stubbornness, and called over the manager.
“Uncle, will you please drive a lap for us?”
The mustached manager came and sat down on the driver’s seat. One hand held the wheel, and the other held a cigarette.
We raced around the track faster than everybody else, and arrived at the finish line.
Of course, I won’t talk about the part where I didn’t let go of the pedal and accidentally flung him into the ditch.
That’s not the point of this story, anyway.
Finally, I picked up my phone in defeat.
“Mom, I’m in a really bad position right now.”
“Come help me, please!”
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